The New Shadow Girl
by Krystaline Death
Summary: It's years after Leslie's ink exchange, and Niall is reigning over the Dark Court. What happens, when a new mortal finds the tattoo book, and wants Niall's tattoo? What if Leslie finds out? And worse, what if someone falls in love again?
1. Chapter 1

"This one." Her voice rang out clear, confident, with a slight smile, as she gazed down at the page, at the eccentric twists of knot work, lingering on the page. The eyes, so deep and almost bottomless, a sadness that she seemed to be able to reach down and touch lingering, with a jagged line racing down from the corner of the eye, it's

Rabbit looked up at the girl who'd been in his shop very few times, though every time she was, she was in for hours. His eyes fell on the book she held in her hand-the book he swore he had burned. For a moment, his breath hitched in his throat, as he glanced around, making sure no one was there. His throat was dry, as he strode over, and took the book, pretending to look down at the symbol she had chosen. He already knew though, what it was-it was Niall's tattoo. They'd had a brief need, a year or so ago, and three years after Leslie's ink exchange, for the exchanges again. But then the mortals hadn't been reacting well. They had died, during the simple tattooing. They didn't go strong like Leslie had… They hadn't truly wanted the tattoos, hadn't had the pull to them, just liked a pretty design they had found.

"I can't do this tattoo." Rabbit's voice was only faintly hoarse, as he looked up, and gazed levelly into the girl's beautiful eyes, surprised to find a mortal with eyes he found attractive, though this girl's eyes were a profound blue, deep and sweet, with little flecks of gold.

"Why not?" she asked, one thin eyebrow raising, as she crossed her arms over her chest, one knee bending in such a manner, he would have thought she was pouting, though he was pretty sure he'd seen nothing yet from this girl.

Rabbit swallowed, and glanced back down at the book he held in his hand, snapping it shut. "I don't have the proper ink."

"Well then I'd wait until you got it." The girl countered, unreasonably feisty.

"Hold on…" Rabbit muttered, though he took the book with him-he didn't want more mortals encountering it, though his shop was thinning out. He moved into the very room, where he had performed the most famous ink exchange known to the dark court, of Leslie. His hands were shaky, as he peered around the corner of the door, and saw the girl still standing there, her hands linked behind her back. She looked oddly content, waiting for him to come back out… It made him gulp.

Sleepily, the Dark Court's king voice echoed in his ear, slightly hoarse. Rabbit heard the flick, as someone-not Niall; the man didn't smoke-flicked open a lighter. Then a woman's purring voice could be heard, before Niall made a gentle 'shush' noise. "Rabbit?" he asked.

Rabbit sighed, "I burned the ink exchange book."

"Yes, I know. I was there, those years ago. I helped you, Rabbit."

"There's a mortal here. And she is in the book."

For a moment, Niall said nothing, and Rabbit thought that he had lost the fae, but then slowly Niall spoke. "As in an image of her, in the tattoo?"

Though he heard the hope in his king's voice, Rabbit had to tell the truth. "No. She has found the book. I know I destroyed it, Niall. But she's found it… And she's chosen a tattoo."

In his room in an eerie old mansion, Niall sighed, and ran his hand tiredly over his face. In the bed next to him, a woman, desperate for his attention, was drawing her hand up and down his chest, and whispering to him. Agitated, he waved his hand at her, telling her to leave. Though the girl's face creased in confusion, and agitation, she let out a small dignified 'hmph' and strode from the room.

Niall had to think of his court. Currently, things weren't too horrible. However, that was only because he was feasting more than he needed-and funneling what was needed out to the court. He'd learned some things from Irial. The economy wasn't the best it had been, which was good for his court, but Keenan and his fey were still strong. The events were balanced out, though it was slightly in Keenan's favor. Slowly, Niall sighed. "Whose tattoo has she chosen?" He hadn't made a decision, not by far. If it were some meek fey, why would he need it, he could just have the mortal chose another tattoo. Niall waited patiently for Rabbit's answer, his eyebrows raised.

"Yours." Rabbit's voice came out in a murmur, and for a moment Niall wasn't sure if he had heard correctly-he was about to ask, when Rabbit spoke again. "This girl has chosen your tattoo."

Niall wasn't sure what to say. At first, he chuckled, and then shook his head. But it was a mask. Deep inside, he was feeling pain-immense, mind numbing pain. He was the king of the Dark Court, whether he liked it or not… And the last time anyone of importance was chosen, for an ink exchange, had been Leslie and Irial. Though Irial remained part of his court, Niall had to admit that he still harbored resentment, for taking away his Leslie…

"Rabbit, are you sure?" Niall asked finally.

"Yes, she's standing out here, right now."

"And has she been in before?"

"Yes, she has."

"Can you suede her to another tattoo?" Niall, while being the king had affected him, had no heart to deny someone something, which was one of the problems of the ink exchange.

"She refuses, Niall." Rabbit's voice was soft, his eyes bleak as once again he peered out at the girl. Now, she was waiting for him, barely showing signs of impatience, leaning on the counter, her head in her hand.

For a while, Niall was too stunned to speak… He didn't WANT to speak. The events were too alike, and he hadn't seen Leslie, in far too long. That was what being a king did to you. For the first few years, he'd visited her, remaining unseen just as he had when he was on Keenan's guard. But then the court had worsened, and he'd had more pressing matters to tend to, though he loved his Leslie, very much… But she was happy. She was mortal, and she had what she deserved. He regretted not seeing her, but he couldn't regret his decision to wipe the ink off her back. It had freed her.

"Niall?" Rabbit spoke again, and Niall could just imagine the man, sitting there in his office, stroking his goatee and concerned-exactly as the man was doing.

"I'll send…" For a moment, Niall wasn't sure who he'd send to check up on the mortal. But suddenly, he could only think of one, the man who was still in his court, and the most experienced of all when it came to ink exchanges-Irial. "I'm sending Irial." Niall finally managed to choke out, though he wondered what the consequences would be. He was no longer addictive… But Irial was. If he couldn't keep his hands to himself, then they would be in trouble. And things like that, becoming a drug to mortals and then letting them wither away, wasn't something that Niall freely allowed in his court-those who partook in that sort of activity suffered severe consequences, while they tried to tend to the mortals…

"Irial… Are you sure?" Rabbit questioned, once again gazing back out at the mortal in his shop. She seemed happy, and positive that she was getting her ink. He couldn't help but smile, at her eagerness.

"Yes, I'm sure." Niall finally said, before tossing the phone down. He sat up in bed, reaching for his boxers and yanking them on. "Irial." He merely had to speak aloud, and then the fae was there in front of him.

Perhaps Leslie's leave had taken more of a toll on Irial than it had on Niall. There were shadows, in the man's eyes, and he no longer was fierce as he used to be-though that was partially because he was no longer a king. For a moment, Niall sighed. "A mortal found our ink exchange book at Rabbit's. She wants my ink." he muttered, clearly reluctant.

Irial's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise, before he quickly straightened. "Refuse to do it." Was all he uttered. He had been against the ink exchanges from the beginning, because of his promise to Leslie. But Niall hadn't made any such promises to his Shadow Girl. And at least Niall hadn't been cruel and had the little 'parties' Irial had, in order to keep Leslie satisfied.

"She's chosen my ink, Irial… I need you to go to her. Check on her, see if she's worth it…"

Irial's eyes darkened. "You know what I promised Leslie. I cannot break that promise."

Niall suddenly looked weary. "I know damn well what you promised. You think I like doing this? But maybe she could help stop these little bouts of starvation in the court… It isn't definite, Irial. Just go," the next words that were to leave Niall's mouth, he hated having to issue, but he knew he had to, "And that is an order from your king."

Irial looked at Niall, shocked, before his eyes narrowed to slits. His ringed fingers brushed back the hair that had fallen in his face, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at Niall, before sighing, reluctance written across his face.

"Do it, or I'll go through immediately with the ink exchange." Niall's voice wasn't a threat this time, but a softly issued attempt to make Irial go in peace.

Finally, Irial stared at Niall, slowly smiling. "You do make a good king, Gancanagh." He murmured, before disappearing, and reappearing outside of Pins and Needles. He pressed his hand to the door, and went inside, in search of the mortal that would be the first ink exchange in many years


	2. Chapter 2

She wasn't exactly what Irial was expecting.

He was expecting a rebel, or possibly a Goth, face riddled with piercings, and already having sleeves of tattoos.

This girl though, reminded him of Leslie, though their physical appearances couldn't have been more different… It was the essence of this mortal, so keen and wanting of this tattoo, almost desperate to have it against her skin. A quick look over revealed that her skin was virgin, to both tattoos and piercings. Her aura, wasn't dark and wounded like Leslie's was, though there seemed to be a slight bit of trauma under the surface, that tickled against his tongue, though she was dealing better than Leslie had. And, with a quick scan though he was polite enough not to probe too deeply, she definitely hadn't been raped and warring with poverty.

It might be smart, he thought, to delve deeper and find out WHAT this girl's tragedy was, but he didn't want this mortal. He didn't want any ink exchanges; he didn't even want to be here. He just wanted to be in his hotel room-it was the one that he and Leslie had shared, so many years ago, he always rented it out, for two months, around this time of year, around the time when she had gotten her ink-and to sit in the dark, assaulted by memories. Maybe even go out, and as Niall used to do, watch Leslie, make sure she was okay. He loved her, his Shadow Girl… He'd been weakened by her.

And, he thought dimly, as would Niall, if he were to take this mortal and wasn't careful. There were no new fey in the Dark Court, still many of the same, and no one was strong enough to hold the title. An ink exchange might not fare well, and the court wasn't too hungry, Niall had seen to that…

But something about this girl.

She was intriguing, in the way she stood, her hands levelly on her hips as she debated with poor Rabbit, but she wasn't harsh in her words. For some reason, Irial didn't believe that 'harsh' would be in this mortal's nature. She had a tumble of long, light almost chestnut colored hair, with faint waves and kinks here and there, as it journeyed down her back, and it appeared layered in the back, as it seemed to slant down in a point at almost the nape of her back. She wasn't tall, and willowy, as his Leslie had been, but rather on the short side, with slight curves that hinted at a French background, though her voice had the slightest touch of an Italian accent. And when she glanced over her shoulder at him, he saw the appreciative look in her eyes as they glanced at him, and for a moment he almost called her eyes pretty, light blue with what seemed like honey flecks. Her skin was pale ivory, soft and smooth, though he could tell there were bits of olive undertones, once again hinting at a French-Italian background.

But then Irial's eyes fell on his old friend, Rabbit, who smiled appreciatively at Irial. "Iri." He said, as he moved from behind the counter to shake hands with Irial. He looked pointedly at the girl, who was now facing them, directing Irial's eyes to her, as if he hadn't already made his observations. He then turned to look at the girl, and raised his brow, going for annoyance.

"This is the girl who wants Niall's ink?"

"Excuse me?" It was the first time the girl had spoken to him, and he was surprised that she had. Over the years, he had made his glamour harsher, and he was positive that he had his glamour in place right now-the years had merely scorned him, not made him careless. Most of the time, his glamour frightened people, and he liked that-it made them stay away.

"That tattoo. It's a friend of mine's, his design that is," Irial's voice was quick, he was telling the truth, though not the whole truth. He saw it in the mortal's eyes; she thought that Irial's friend was a tattoo artist. "He sent me to see if you'd be worth the ink." He thought of his Gancanagh friend, and the pain he himself had felt, firsthand, as Rabbit had taken the blood from his veins, and all the other pain that the ink exchange had brought him. "What's your name anyways girl, how old are you?"

The girl glared up at him, and Irial almost chuckled that she had the gall to do so. He could kill her, so easily… "My name is Amora. And I'm nineteen. Not that it matters to you."

Irial once again raised his eyebrows. He, quite frankly, was growing intolerant of this girl, and truly wanted some alcohol to soothe the angst of the possibility of another ink exchange. "A little short for nineteen, aren't you?"

"A little pissy for a grown man, aren't you?"

Rabbit chuckled slightly, shaking his head and tugging on his goatee.

"Little girl, it does in deed matter to me, as it should to you, for your ink could rest in my hands." Irial's eyes darkened as he spoke.

"No, I mean it doesn't matter my name, or my age. You have it set in your heart to dislike me. I saw it, the moment you walked through the door." Amora countered, once again folding her arms over her chest, not quite in a pout.

"So what are you, some all mighty seer?" Irial snorted.

Amora rolled her eyes, "I'm not stupid, is what I am." Then she hunched her shoulders, and turned away from him, to Rabbit. "May I please, just get the tattoo? I'll pay you in full, and in cash…" she walked across the room, back to the counter, and touched the page where Nial's tattoo was, his eyes, her finger lingering on his scar. There was an odd tenderness, in how she touched the picture, such a longing for it, or maybe it was the person that the tattoo was of. "I need this, Rabbit." She whispered.

For a moment, Rabbit was stunned. Leslie had said almost those same exact words to him, when he had questioned her on wanting the tattoo. The girl even had the same desperate tone. For a moment, he paused, then turned and grabbed Irial's sleeve. "I'll be right back, Amora." He muttered, tugging Irial into a back room.

"Watch her. Don't look at her like she's replacing Leslie, for just a second, and look at how she stares at the design." Rabbit whispered.

Reluctance clear in his posture, Irial looked out at Amora, and realized that he HAD indeed been looking at her as if she were a replacement for Leslie, the situations were simply too alike. But he took a moment, to look at her clearly, for a moment pushing Leslie to the farest corner of his mind. She did, indeed, look at that tattoo with such longing, as if her mind were already made up, and that was her destiny, to have the touch of the needles against some part of her skin, in that tattoo. It truly was as if the tattoo spoke to her, as she drew her finger around the page, wanting it in every sense of her being.

Her eyes, Irial realized, were unguarded, at least for now. They were open for him to see her emotions and thoughts, though if he tried hard enough, he could taste them. She wasn't like the other mortals, she wasn't as weak as could be, though not quite Leslie strong-that could change, he thought, suddenly surprised at the turn of his thoughts-and it wasn't just a tattoo she'd found interesting. She WANTED it.

With a sigh, Irial pulled out a camera from his pocket, and walked back out. "Smile," he said simply, snapping a picture of her, "I'll show this to Niall. It'll be his decision." His tone was firm. Damn, he hated doing this.

His thoughts were racing in a million different directions, as he walked out of the shop and onto the street. He knew, Niall would consent to the ink exchange. It would benefit the court. While there wasn't famine, as there had been at the end of Irial's reign, there were still bouts of hunger, and Niall wanted everyone fed. That was just his kind way. And it was killing Irial.

Walking this time, Irial knocked on the mansion door that Niall used to take up his permanent residence. Gabriel answered the door, the same Gabriel as when Irial himself had ruled. He smiled warmly at Irial, "Iri, you've come out!" he said, clapping the faerie on the back.

Irial moved away, nodding slowly. "I need to speak with Niall." That was all he said, walking at a brisk pace away from the Hound, leaving the man staring at Irial in shock. Then, the Hound came to his senses. "Irial, wait!" he called, though the fae just pretended to not hear.

Irial opened the door to Niall's study, not even caring to knock, and held out the camera. "I say go for it. The girl is…" his words cut short, as slowly the chair opposite Niall swiveled around, the person in it turning to face him.

He was sure that his heart would stop beating. He was sure that he would break down, and he was sure that guilt was about to consume him.

Tears were stinging her cheeks. "You promised me, Irial that you wouldn't do another ink exchange." Leslie whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**OHMYGOD!!**

**I ACTUALLY, FINALLY, GOT A REVIEW**

**Meaning you people are reading this!! –squeal- I have faith in this story again. =3**

**I LOVE YOU PEOPLE!!**

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His heart was breaking.

It was absolutely SHATTERING, into a million little pieces. Leslie was sitting there, her spine straight, posture erect and shifted, as far away from him as she possibly could be… Almost as if she were afraid of him, though her face betrayed her-showing all the hurt, and pain there. It was like a needle, through his heart, injecting the deadliest poison he could ever imagine… The pain was crushing him, and he swore, he was about to fall from the whiplash of it.

Leslie looked… Good, to say the very least. She had shortened her hair, cropping it to her jaw length, though it was angled shorter in the back. Her dark brown eyes, oh how they seemed to glimmer with the purest of hopes, and if he searched deep down into them, he was positive he could see some love. For a moment hope spiked in him, before it came crashing down. He could taste her emotions, the most exquisite of gourmets as they rolled across his tongue. He inhaled deeply, though she didn't realize. Cinnamon, for anger… Vanilla, for betrayal… And mint, for envy, though there was a touch of cherry, for love. But he could tell, in an instant, that that love wasn't for him-nor was it for Niall.

Niall.

At the thought of the man, Irial's eyes flew up to him, sitting behind the desk, his jaw dropped in shock as he stared at Leslie, obviously as stunned by Leslie's words as Irial was. Slowly, he closed his mouth, and looked at Leslie. "Leslie?" he spoke, his voice as soft as Irial had heard it in a long time.

She didn't turn to look at him, just kept her eyes, harsh and accusing, far stronger than they had been the last time he'd seen them, trained on him. He was surprised, at how she'd rebuilt herself over the years-his Shadow Girl was so strong, even as tears glimmered down her cheeks… What had he done?

"Leslie." Niall spoke again, harsher this time.

Slowly, Leslie turned away from him, to look at Niall. She sniffed a few times, wiping her hand under her eyes to bat away the tears, a slight smudge of black eyeliner lingering on the back of her hand. "What?" she snapped.

"Irial didn't do this on purpose." Niall whispered.

_Good. He isn't letting me take the fall for this. _Irial thought to himself, as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the door frame. His body was in shock, his heart in turmoil.

"But he's taken part in it."

"Only because I am forcing him to, Leslie, as his king."

Irial could taste her shock on his tongue-sweet, like green apples, though bitter at the same time.

"His… King?" Leslie tilted her pretty head to the side, mouth opened in shock. Niall nodded, and instantly she was up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the desk, rage. "So now YOU'RE ruling this place? No, worse, you're letting another ink exchange happen? After you saw what it did to me?"

Niall and Irial cringed in sync as she stepped back, pacing now.

"You were the one who helped me break the ink exchange, who told me to do it, even when I was blissfully unaware of the effects of it. And now, you're supporting one? Isn't it YOUR ink as well Niall?"

Niall sighed, and rose. "My court, isn't in the same condition as it was when Irial ruled. We are not starving, no, not near there. But we have pockets of hunger… Too many, for my content. We wouldn't need near as many emotions as we did from you, not have to take even her own away. Use her, as a key, to others."

Leslie's hand flew out accusingly, one hand pointed towards Irial. "As he did with me?"

"No, Leslie. You see, the Dark Court had some adjusting to do, with me as king. Some things I didn't even realize happening. We can no longer taste emotions with as much ease, as before. That is the cause for our pockets of starvation. This girl though, with my ink on her, could provide the proper adjustments."

Niall and Irial met each other's eyes. Neither wanted to do this… But Niall was a magnificent king. He didn't want any of his faeries to starve, in any way shape or form. So, he'd do this, risk this one thing, for them.

"And, truth be told, she wouldn't have to live with us as you did. I could let her go about her life… But drop in, once or twice. As a friend, that sort of thing. Leslie, please… Don't be enraged." And, as Niall crossed to Leslie, placing one hand on her shoulder, something occurred to Irial.

Years ago, his friend had been addictive to mortals. One thing Niall had feared, when being around Leslie… As king of the Dark Court, Niall was no longer addictive…

But Irial was.

For a moment, longing so deep and pure, for Leslie's love to be his again, rose in Irial's gut. He COULD have her… Yes, he could. But would he want Leslie like that? As someone who was addicted to him? No… He'd want his Leslie… And he'd want her to come back to him, of her own accord. Not through some penniless addiction to him.

But the idea lingered, in the back of his mind, even as Leslie stormed out.

He didn't get to say good-bye.

"Take me… To see this girl." Niall finally spoke, his head bowed with reluctance and also a sorrow at seeing Leslie again.

They had called ahead; Amora had come back to the store, as soon as Rabbit had called.

Keying his glamour in place, Niall pushed open the door. He looked for a girl of Irial's description – slight, lightly curved, innocent, light hair and pretty eyes, with a defiant demeanor.

Instead, what he found was a girl clad in black skinny jeans, dangerously high heels with a skull bow on the toes, a dark purple off-the-shoulder top, and a sweet smile.

Irial was surprised. He hadn't payed attention to her clothing before. He'd pictured the girl in something more… Well, light. Pleated skirt. Lip gloss. Wanting the tattoo to displease daddy… Which, the last part, was probably another reason why he had set it in his mind to dislike her.

For a moment, wanting curled in his lips, before he shook himself. He would have to call on one of his old girls tonight, sadly, to ease the pain of Leslie from his mind…

Niall spoke then. "You're Amora." He spoke simply, slightly dumbfounded. He definitely wasn't expecting a girl like this.

Amora's face softened into a smile, as she slumped her shoulders back, hooking one thumb in the belt loop of her jeans. The other hand wound around one of the waves of hair, as she nodded. "Niall?" she asked.

He knew it was dangerous for her to meet him, but he hadn't thought she'd know his name. He glanced at Irial, about to snap at him, wondering how she knew his name.

"Big, tall, and scary told me that I wouldn't be able to get the ink unless his friend approved of me." Amora's voice wasn't a jeer, merely a taunt that could have verged on flirty, if her eyes had the tone.

"Oh." Was all Niall could say.

Amora shook her head, as if to say 'Well…?' and smiled, tilting her head to the side. "I mean, I know I don't look like much, or the kind of girl to want that sort of tattoo, maybe a skull with a bow in it's hair, but I don't know… I want that, right on my hip." As if to prove her point, she drew her hand down to her abdomen, right where the hip bone would be and slightly to the side of that.

_Not as bad a place as she could want it… Could be somewhere explicit. _Niall had to think to himself.

But instead, he gestured to one of Rabbit's back rooms. "Mind if we go talk? Irial, you'll come."

Rabbit grabbed his keys, and unlocked the door to one room, flicking on the lights. It looked like a conference room, with a circular table and a few chairs set around it. Niall eased down into one of the chairs, Amora sitting in the one across from it, and Irial standing against the door frame.

"Why?" Niall asked.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Amora asked, her brow furrowing in confusion for a moment.

"Why do you want the ink."

"Oh. Well… It's beautiful. I don't know why, I'm so drawn to it. I've liked other tattoos before yes of cour-"

"And why don't you get one of those?"

"Because, while I liked them, they didn't seem worth it. They say that if you get a tattoo, you better like it, because it's going to be on your skin for the rest of your life. When you're old and saggy, it's still going to be there. Those tattoos that I've previously seen, were pretty, yes, roses, and faces, and hearts, and all that sort of thing, but I didn't think I'd want them, in even a year from now, let alone until I'm old.

"But then I saw that tattoo. It was just… Gorgeous. The jagged line protruding from the eyes is so beautiful, the line of knots so intricate… I absolutely adore it. I can't help it… It's like a lust, almost, for it and…"

Amora's words trailed off, as she lifted her eyes and examined Niall's face. The glamour hadn't covered the scar… And she instantly recognized it.

Hesitantly, she rose, and walked to Niall. Though he was sitting, he wasn't much shorter than her as she was standing. Gently, she touched the scar with the tip of her finger, the touch barely a whisper against his skin, ever so gentle. "Your eyes…" she murmured, stunned.

Niall smiled slightly, entranced by this mortal. She was pretty, yes, but weren't they all these days? But she wasn't his type; she was too slight, not fiery enough. Though, Irial would protest the 'fiery' part. But she was gentle, and she did truly want the tattoo, more than he knew. "Yes. The tattoo is my eyes." He drew away, standing and walking over to the door. He didn't want her touching him any more. Too tempting. He would never, ever, care for anyone other than Leslie. Never.

And while there wasn't a place in his heart built for Amora, he didn't want to risk one growing.

But he paused, and said, "You have my consent to get the ink."


	4. Chapter 4

**HOLY WOWZA. **

**I just checked my old email, since I got a new AIM screenname, and saw I had a handful of new reviews on JUST THIS STORY.**

**Not on my other ones, but this one! The one I secretely lovvvvved but it never got no attention...**

**And someone had commented forever ago, that they sensed a love-triangle. And I think I might do that... Hah, my first intent on this story was to make it a Rabbit and Niall fall for the New Shadow Girl, but I don't think so anymore... Review it with an idea for what I should do, where I should take this? I loooove to hear your ideas too.**

**So now. BECAUSE of you people... I'm writing again. =]**

**But be warned, I'm not using microsoft word for this document, it's like the whole wordpad thing x.x Dunno if that's going to make this go like... Coo-coo, and if anyone finds typos, TELL ME! **

**Also, if Amora seems to be getting like a Mary-Sue (too perfect for those who are unfarmiliar with the term) tell me pleaseee.**

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Amora squealed with palpable delight. She rushed at Niall, throwing her arms around him for a moment, hugging him with arms that weren't as weak as most mortals. Or maybe Niall was just used to fragile, addicted, mortal girls. And, so far, Amora wasn't addicted.

"You can start right away." Niall was aware his voice was brisk, for she hadn't released him yet. He didn't like the feel of mortal flesh, and he didn't like that he could taste her emotions stronger than he had been able to Leslie's.

And honestly, he was drinking it in, much as he could see Irial was. She seemed to radiate her emotions. And right now, while the Dark Court generally proffered things like malice, lust, and that sort of thing, it was hard not to enjoy Amora. The taste of, while he knew there was no way to taste it, sunshine rolled around in his mouth, though it was thickened with the taste of honey. He didn't know what emotions the tastes were attatched directly to, but he knew one thing - it was refreshing, and strong.

Irial was drinking it in as well. But it wasn't refreshing as he wanted it to be. He was still not over Leslie, and seeing her again. That had truly shocked him, more than anyone around him could see. But now, it was hard not to let his lips lift even the slightest bit at Amora's excitement. She was, literally, dancing, spinning around the room. She had stepped out of her heels, and was spinning around on her toes. Her hair flew up like a curtain around her, and Irial could smell jasmine and violet stirring the air. It wasn't how she tased, just how she smelled.

Rabbit had remained somewhat silent for the duration of their discussion. Now, as Niall gave the go-ahead for Amora's ink, Rabbit pushed off from the glass counter top, gesturing for Niall and Irial to follow him to the back. His eyes were dark, as he stroked his goatee. He locked the door to one of the private rooms behind them, a tattoo chair as well as a table being the only furnishings. "Iri, I need to extract blood from Niall." he whispered.

Irial's mood darkened. That had been the worst part; and he had adored Leslie, so it had been easy to endure it, even from the start. Niall... Well, though the girl was attractive, it was clear Niall didn't love her. _He might grow to, as you did with Leslie._ his mind whispered to him, though he batted that thought away. "Tie him down. The girl's expecting a start right now... Take only a little."

Rabbit seemed suddenly ashamed. "I can't. I don't have strong enough ties and..."

"Then can't we just wait?" A look of actual confusion crossed Niall's face -- he didn't understand the big deal.

"Do you really want to tell her that?" Rabbit, always the soft hearted, muttered, "Irial, do you think you could...?"

Irial sighed. "Hold him down? I'll try." He shifted towards Niall. "This is going to hurt, Gancangh. And this is only the beginning," his smile turned somewhat wicked, "Mortals aren't the only ones who suffer during these."

Niall looked uncertain for just a moment, before he sat himself down on the chair. He closed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"Irial, sit by his side. Hold his wrists in one hand, and press one shoulder back if you can," Rabbit waited until he saw Irial could handle that. As he had done with Irial, he tied a stronger than average rubber band on Niall's arm, just below the elbow. He waited for the vien to become more prominent, before taking out a needle, and a little bottle without a label. "Here comes the hard part Niall... Need your blood, for her tattoo. Try and remember where you are."

Honest, Rabbit was scared. Irial had known Rabbit, for years upon years, and had been held by strong cords. He also had been king of the Dark Court far longer than Niall, which had given him years of patience. Niall though... The man could do anything he wanted. With a single gulp, Rabbit drew the needle from it's sterilyzing packet. He injected it into Niall's pulse, waiting to see how the faerie would react.

Niall peered curiously at Rabbit, as if to say, "This is all?" But as soon as Rabbit began to pull on the syringe, Niall's eyes widened in fear. He threw his head back and let out an inhumane growl, twitching and struggling in his seat. Distinctly, Rabbit hoped that the room was still some-what sound proof, not wanting to frighten Amora away. But just as Niall's back bowed and he opened his mouth unhumanly wide to scream again, Rabbit extracted the needle.

Niall was panting in his seat, and his eyes were black. His glamour was absolutely gone, and he looked fierce. Black electricity seemed to crackle around him, fearfully.

And then, something happened that surprised all three of them in the room.

Irial sat down in front of Niall, in the king's direct line of vision. He placed one hand on the man's shoulder, gentle this time instead of restricting. "For your court, Niall."

"My... Court." Niall repeated the words, as if they were alien. But suddenly, recognition lit his eyes. "The Dark Court." he whispered the word, nodding, and looking Irial dead in the eyes. "Is about to get a new addition."

He looked solemnly towards the door, which would lead to Amora.

_______________________________________________________________________

Amora hadn't heard the screams, and the faeries were thankful for that. She was smilling happily, bobbing in place, her hands clasped behind her back as she gazed around the , in her hand, she held two crisp hundred dollar bills, ready to pay. She really did want this tattoo, it wasn't a spur of the moment type thing. She turned, her blue eyes meeting Niall's when the trio reemerged.. She smiled slightly, before tilting her head to the side. "Your eyes are so deep." she whispered suddenly, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was obviously trying to reach into his eyes, into his mind. But she was merely human, he a strong faerie, a king. She couldn't see anything past the almost black color of his irises.

Rabbit smiled solemnly at Amora, gesturing towards a room next to the one where they had taken Niall's blood from his viens. "Amora?" Rabbit asked, as he heard the front door open then close. He was faintly surprised when Irial was suddenly in the door, and glanced at the faerie before shrugging. "Where is it you want your tattoo again?"

Amora smiled at Irial, ecstatic, before she drew a pin out of her pocket. She carefully rolled up her shirt to four inches above her abdomen, pinning it there before smiling again. "Right here." she drew an invisible line with her finger slightly above the hip bone, on an angle. Rabbit nodded, and drew out the book he thought he had destroyed so long ago. He found Niall's tattoo, flashing it to Amora, and once again the girl nodded. Rabbit took out his special pencil, pressing the page onto Amora's bare skin. He took the pencil, rubbing it on the back of the paper so that the ink rubbed off onto Amora's pale skin.

Slowly, Rabbit uncorked the bottle with Niall's blood in it, and began to set to work, drawing the outline...

Amora saw red. But it wasn't quite a bad thing. Her head fell backwards, as if in slow motion, as the needle touched her skin. For a second, her hands gripped at the arm rests on the chair at the pain, before she slowly relaxed. She suddenly could see flashes of faces, inhumane, though one reoccured: A girl, with short hair, pretty. A name came to her - _Leslie _- and the girl seemed to be crying. Over and over again, the girl whispered into Amora's mind, _Do you know what you have done?_

Slowly though, the red backdrop faded, becoming darker and darker. The girl's face faded too, and Amora slowly became aware she was becoming unconsious. "I'm just getting a tattoo Leslie..." she whispered back to the face, before suddenly her whole body went limp, and she fell unconsious.

"Rabbit! Rabbit!" Irial yelled, and as Rabbit looked up at him, he widened his eyes, pointing to Amora, distraught. "STOP!" he screamed. Instantly, the hum of the needle ended. Irial rushed forward, Rabbit moving quickly out of the way. Irial scooped up Amora in a fireman's carry, her hair spilling over his arm. He carefully didn't let her slightly tattooed skin touch itself, carrying her out into the front, where there was an old couch. He gently lowered her onto that.

She had caught his attention, when she had just barely whispered Leslie's name. And that's when he realized she was unconsious, though Rabbit himself hadn't. He suddenly didn't feel quite as iced out, as he brushed Amora's hair from her face, but then immediatly drew back and looked at her. Not Leslie, he reminded himself.

Irial sat there with her, while Rabbit brought out the safety gauze to cover the ink, and press a cold compress to her head. The only reason Irial stayed, was worry. He didn't want the mortal to die already -- and that was all, he would remained iced and isolated from everyone. And as soon as Amora's eyes opened, and peered into his with the unique tenderness of a mortal's, Irial was up and out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Amora sat, confused for a moment by Irial's sudden departure. It had been somewhat frightening; she'd been swimming in pure darkness, water surrounding her. She kept seeing flashes of faces, sometimes she recognized the eyes as those of Irial's, or Niall's. A few times, Leslie's face flashed before her, agonizing and staring at her, as if condemning yet symphathizing with her for her decision. But most of all... A little girl's voice was ringing in her ears, though it felt distance, like background music. _Mother? Mother? _It was so softly questioning, but searching for something unfindable. The voice was almost heart-breakingly agonizing, but only because the memory of it went with it...

_A woman, with hair so pale it shimmered like white-gold, crouched down to the ground to fiddle with something her lithe body hid. Behind her, the world was a blanket of blackness, no stars glimmering contentedly amongst a black night sky. The woman's eyes, pale blue with flecks of gold, peered up at the sound of shuffling footsteps. In the door behind her, a little girl stood. One tiny hand was fisted, rubbing at her eye, the other clutching a pale blue blanket flowing behind her like a child's bridal trial._

_"Mother?" young Amora whispered, repeating the phrase, "Mother?"_

_The woman lifted her head, her lips rosey and her cheeks flushed. Her lips twisted into a farther smile, as she strode forward in clear, confident steps. She took her finger tips, framing the little girl's face, and pressing a kiss to the girl's brow. "Darling..." she whispered._

But suddenly the memory ended, and Amora was greeted with Irial's brooding eyes as he peered down at her. They were dull, and flat, but with a hint of concern that was almost unable to be seen. .Amora was generally good at reading people's eyes, only because she tried so often to look in the mirror and see what other's saw in her. Then, as she relaxed and let the scent of a tattoo parlor surround her, calm now that the floating of faces and memories had ended, Irial had been gone. He had just up and left, in the blink of an eye.

Slowly, Amora sat up and gazed around. A wad of cold, wet tissue fell from her forehead, onto her bare stomach. She gave a little jump, before looking down to pick it up... And she was stunned.

It was truly beautiful, though it was only an outline. There was the knotwork, like a series of it's own tattoos, behind just the outline of what Amora knew would be lovely, yet haunting eyes. And the scar was starting, extending down to her waistline. Currently it truly was just all outlines, in plain black ink, though the very tip of the scar that seemed to protrude from the eyes was a dark red that if Amora didn't know better, she might have assumed it was black as well. The tattoo made her smile, as she traced around the plastic. It wasn't that big, only about the width of the tip of her thumb to her middle finger when outstretched. It would be done in a few sessions, the almost Celtic knotwork behind the eyes would take the most amount of time to do.

Rabbit coughed behind her, and slowly Amora turned her head to look up at him. For a moment, she was quiet, before everything was easy to remember. She smiled appologetically, before it turned to pleading, "Can we continue with it?"

Hesitating, Rabbit's mouth twisted downwards sullenly. "I don't think so, not today. You need to rest. Come back in..." here Rabbit hesitated, his true reasoning? He wanted either Niall or Irial to be present during it, in case something happened. He wanted a full blooded faerie there, and someone who had experience with the ink exchanges. He didn't want anything to go wrong, and Niall was a strong leader... He had said this would be for the best of the court... But still, to be sure, Rabbit felt uncomfortable working on the mortal.

"I'll give you a ring when I can tattoo you again, and we'll set something up." Rabbit finished, as Amora smiled and took the pin back out, letting her shirt cover her tattoo, and walking out the door.

__________________________________________________________________

That night, Irial visited a new club, called Klub Khaos.

The bar was relatively new, which meant that the pretty cocktail waitresses didn't know him. That made them all the more eligible. Though across the room he knew Niall was there as well, Irial feigned oblivion to his king's presence. He sat at the bar, sipping at a mortal drink, though it disgusted him. He remembered a bar like this, though it had been filled with his own kind, not Leslie's. It had been where he had danced with her, kissed her, and intoxicated her. Oh, how his heart yearned for her. And seeing her today... It had just crushed him. He was tired, and he needed salvation in a mortal. He knew if he still was king, he'd simply radiate pheremones, and have women crawling across him, he could have his pick... But now he carefully looked through the club, for someone who seemed to be just hollow. He knew he was addictive now; but just this once, he didn't want to have to deal with someone who was too willing. He wanted to play the game, to pursue... But he wanted Leslie, overall. The one he could never again have...

He was just about to abandon his search, and go quench his thirst with a few already addicted mortals, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and felt his lips quirk up in astonishment, as one did when they ran into someone, but felt as if the other person had been searching for them. Amora stood there, behind the bar. Her hair was straightened instead of waved, and pulled up on the top of her head in a pony tail though a few pieces escaped to frame her face, longer than he would have expected it to be when unwaved. Her eyes were lined thickly with black on the top lid, that circled down to her lower lid, but halted halfway in. A faint dusting of gray shimmering eyeshadow reached the crease of her eye, though it seemed faded, as if from work. She wore a slim black collared shirt, almost a polo, though it bared a small inch of her midriff - Irial could see part of Niall's scar exposed - as well as a black skirt with small chains where pockets would have been. A quick glance downwards showed that her feet were bare, though in the next instant he saw a pair of black, almost combat style boots, that seemed painful even from a distance, the heel was so high. She did look good, and Irial couldn't deny that.

But she was no Leslie.

"Funny running into you here." Irial murmured, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head to the side. He caught Niall's eye, making a small gesture for his king to abandon the redhead fawning over him, and come over. He wanted to see how the girl was doing with Niall's ink on her. Irial swivelled back around, facing Amora.

"I work here." Amora said with a small laugh, as a customer threw a bill at her. She took a frosted glass from under the bar, filling it with foamy beer that escaped out and over the side. Amora slid it down to the man, quickly wiping up the liquid that sloshed out of the glass.

"Really? Aren't you a little young?"

"I'm eighteen, it's perfectly legal just so long as I don't take a drink." As if to prove a point, she filled up a small glass with Sprite, sipping from it.

At that point Niall joined them, and he was a little more at ease than Irial was. Perhaps that was because he hadn't heard Leslie's name fall from Amora's lips that day, though Irial had informed Niall of Amora passing out during her tattoo. "How is the tattoo coming?" he asked.

Amora smiled, placing each hand on the bar and lifting herself up so that her arms were supporting her. She sat slightly on the ledge of the bar, not too close to any of the patrons, and lifted her shirt just enough so that Niall could see the tattoo. "It's beautiful. Thank you, so much. I positively love it." she seemed to be glowing with excitement then, or perhaps that was just the mixture of blacklight above her head, and blue tinted bulbs at her back. She carefully lowered herself back onto the ground, leaning forward with her head in one hand. "Why are you guys both here?"

"Came to relax." Irial spoke, running a hand through his hair. He didn't bother to push it out of the way, when it fell into one eye.

Amora laughed, "Do you two go everywhere together?"

"Merely coincidental." Niall responded this time, extracting a bill from the breast pocket of his black button-down shirt. He placed it on the bar, tilting his head at whatever Irial was sipping contentedly at.

Niall had to admire the way Amora's fingers moved quickly on the tap, with careful yet easy concentration she worked. A free strand of hair fell into her face, and he knew that if he leaned closer he could smell her hair. But he didn't, he stayed where he was, carefully watching her. He gently took the strong lust and anger from the patrons next to him, stronger because of Amora's presence. There was just barely his blood and essence on her skin, and yet he could already feel a difference -- if he tried, that is. It didn't come effortlessly, as the other fae had told him it had for them.

For a second, Niall peered at Amora. He gently put Leslie into a back corner of his mind, looking at Amora for who she was, and not as someone trying to replace Leslie. Could he care about her? Could he want her, and need her, in the way Irial had Leslie? Would he want to keep her alive, even when she was close to death? Would he maybe even, be able to love her if he was able to know her?

Suddenly, Niall felt a foot against his shin. He glanced over at Irial, nodding as he realized he had obviously been in deep thought. The mortal was taking too much attention. And that wasn't good. Curtly, Niall stood and smiled at Amora though it nowhere near touched his eyes. Across the bar, his eyes met the girl who had been adoring him before he had walked over -- had it truly only been a few minutes ago? -- and crossed to her. Mortals were so easily replaced. So easily forgotten.

Irial watched Niall leave. _Careful, Gancangh._ he thought, his king hearing him but not responding to him. He smiled sadly at Amora. "Don't mind him. He's just having trouble relaxing now - a - days."

Amora smiled, tucking her free strand of hair behind her ear. Her bubble of happiness seemed suddenly deflated, in the way her shoulders weren't as far set back, and she kept her eyes cast down. But the bad part was her smile. Her lips always seemed to be quirked upwards, at least in the tiniest bit. It was what was appealing about her. But now, she was just plain frowning. "It seems you two are always running away from me, or something." she murmured, before peering up at Irial. "You don't have to stay and chat with me, it's okay. You probably want to go toy with the other girls here."

Irial smirked. That had been exactly what he wanted to do; he wanted to come and wash the ink exchanges, as well as the memories of it, off his hands. But instead? He was face-to-face with the new Shadow Girl. Somehow though, he wasn't comletely annoyed. "Hey, it's fine." he murmured. "I'm sorry for running out so quickly this afternoon, I ditched you." But suddenly Irial's phone buzzed in his pocket. He extracted it, glancing at the ID. Niall.

"Make sure she's okay."

"I know, I am." As he spoke, Irial was aware of the presence of a new bartender, behind him. His back was to the new-comer, as well as Amora. He was faintly aware of friendly words, before Amora saying, "Look, I'm getting a tattoo..."

"Okay. I'm sorry for leaving so soon it's just... Well, Iri, have you left yet?"

"No I'm still here." There was silence on the other end.

"Irial?" The soft voice didn't belong to Amora. It made Irial's throat suddenly clog, as he turned around and met Leslie's eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**So, hey all. I'm back – sort of. But before we get to the story, here's a few things;**

**I'm sorry, I didn't understand that the Dark Court only fed from faeries and not humans, it was a 'duh' move on my part, but to change that at this point would greatly hinder the storyline. I began to write this BEFORE Fragile Eternity, so things that were unexplained at that time... Well, I filled in my own blanks (same goes for Radiant Shadows). I'm also very sorry that I'm sporadic about this, coming back and forth. Final note, obviously time has passed since I've started this so hopefully my writing style is more mature, and not so many typos/errors. Thank you guys :D **

Irial's shoulders were tense as he turned to look at Leslie. He kept his eyes guarded, and his mouth was tilted down in a sour look, as he looked into her eyes. She regarded him, at that moment, with such animosity it made his mouth suddenly parched. Oh, how she could bring him to his knees! He carefully slipped his phone back into his pocket, before realizing that Amora was staring, and speaking, though he didn't hear her words. From Leslie's response to her, he could guess that it was something along the lines of them knowing each other.

"You could say that." Leslie said, her tone showing how piqued she was.

Irial took a gulp back of his brew, before smiling wickedly at Amora. "We used to date." Leslie looked down with shame in her eyes, "But she moved away. Funny, now I'm seeing her everywhere."

Leslie gave a small 'hmph', and whisked herself away to go attend to the bar. Irial couldn't help but wonder if it pained her as much to be in his presence as it did he – perhaps it would mean he wasn't as weak as he thought himself, if she felt it too. Amora refilled his glass. "On me." she said, turning away to work as well.

Irial chose that moment to take his leave, leaving the still cold drink resting, untouched, on the bar.

~x~

As Amora was leaving the bar that night, her boots on her sore feet but not tied up and some tips stuffed into her bag which she kept slung on her shoulder, she felt a hand on her arm and turned with a slight 'yip'. Her shoulders relaxed as Leslie's increasingly familiar face greeted her. The look, however, was unfamiliar, but somehow Amora got the hint Leslie was scared.

Leslie's eyes probed Amora's, looking for anything that would indicate she was going to run. When she knew that Amora wasn't going to, she relaxed and withdrew her hand, though her eyes still flitted around the parking lot. "May I have a ride home? I walked, but now my feet are sore." It was a lie, but Amora couldn't know that. Plus, when she cast a look down at Leslie's shoes – high heels worthy of a pin-up girl – she smiled sympathetically and nodded.

"Yeah sure, you'll just have to direct me to where you live." Amora answered, turning again and walking with Leslie in tow to her car. There was a moment of silence, somewhat awkward, as Amora sat rubbing her hands together against the slight chill in the car.

"So. I didn't get a good look at your tattoo before we were... Distracted." Leslie said, with a flinch that didn't go unnoticed.

Amora, still proud of the ink, smiled a million-watt smile. She lifted her shirt a bit, exposing the tattoo, and Leslie sucked in a breath.

There had to be something special about eyes, Leslie thought to herself. But what really shocked her, was the beauty of it, even if it was just a dull outline. Her hand, of it's own accord, reached out and hovered an inch above the skin, right where the form of Niall's scar was. Her other hand, once again acting as if someone else controlled it, reached behind her back to touch her own tattoo, still there and still beautiful. But Leslie couldn't deny it; Amora's was beautiful as well. What was it that was always said – something about pain and beauty, the two mixing together being inevitable. Leslie closed her eyes and slumped back against the seat, pressing her finger tips to her eyes. She could hear Niall's assurances in her mind that this would be okay, that Amora would be fine, would be 'untouched' by this. Leslie had a hard time believing that. She also, in the 'brief' time that she had known Amora, had a hard time believing she wouldn't grow sick from this. The girl was too happy, too ignorant of the world she was about to be part of, and too pure in Leslie's eyes. _Amora, what have you done?_ Leslie thought to herself, unable to voice the words, too scared.

"Leslie?" Amora inquired finally, concern making her lips press together. She peered at Leslie, reaching out a hand to touch Leslie's shoulder.

Leslie flinched away, before giving Amora a small, fake, smile. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, before nodding. "Sorry, I just have a headache."

Amora smiled knowingly, before putting the car in drive. "I know what that's like. I have some aspirin in the glove box." she said, gesturing with a flick of her head. She steered with one hand, a little on the fast side, and undid her hair so that it _swooshed_ down around her shoulders and down her back. She returned both hands to the wheel, speeding a little more now that she had more control over the car. Amora liked to drive fast, and had even dabbled in bits of racing while she was still in high school.

"So where do you live?" Amora asked Leslie, not taking off the road. She drove fast, but not stupidly.

Leslie gave her distinct directions, that didn't truly allow for conversation. Amora hummed to herself along with a song on the radio, though she didn't play it loudly like she would have if she was alone. "So, Irial said that you moved away."

Leslie took a moment to answer, before nodding. "I did. I needed time to myself." Leslie said with a shrug, as they neared the Huntsdale city limits. Leslie lived just on the outskirts of town. Obviously she hadn't been quite able to move back in, not all the way.

Amora still had to ask. "So why are you back now?"

Leslie smiled, a real one though it was wistful. "I don't have many good memories here, Amora. But I'm afraid that it doesn't change the fact that this is my home. I can run, and I can hide. But I'm so tired of it. I have my bachelor's degree in psychology. I'd like to become a school guidance counselor." Here she paused, gathering her thoughts. "If this is a place that gave me bad memories, then maybe I can help someone fix their's." If it had been anyone else, this could have been regarded as a big admission, of a deep dark secret. For most people, it was something they wouldn't tell someone after only a few hours of knowing them. Leslie wasn't most people – the skeletons in her closet were much worse. This was just a little bit of her, not even close to a huge admission. It was something she didn't have a problem telling people, for they were her ambitions. To Leslie, it was her proof that she was finally becoming free – she was bettering herself, and maybe even going to better other's.

A small smile was in Amora's voice as she responded softly, "I think that's a lovely thing." She turned to face Leslie, and for some reason could instantly picture her with Irial. Maybe she had been the chink in Irial's onyx-colored armor. Amora couldn't have known that he still was.

Leslie smiled, but didn't say anything – Amora had pulled up to the curb of Leslie's apartment building. "Thank you for the ride home, Amora." she murmured, and hesitated. She'd completely forgotten her cause – she was going to tell Amora to remove the ink, try to persuade her to. For some reason, she found the girl easy to talk to. Maybe she was just one of those charismatic people. As Leslie glanced over at her, and the way her face was lit slightly by a cell phone that she had pulled out and was playing with in her lap, she sighed to herself. Even if Amora was charismatic, Leslie realized the real reason was because she wanted to save Amora. She didn't want her in the same position that she had been in.

Leslie smiled suddenly, as a thought came to her. She may not have warned Amora as she had originally planned to, but perhaps she could make a difference. She hesitated, her door on the handle. "Amora, when is your next session for the tattoo?" she asked, a perfectly normal question.

Amora glanced up from her phone, and smiled, tilting the screen at her. "I just texted Rabbit now to ask him when I can come in."

Leslie's smile grew, but just a bit. "Amora, can I maybe come with you, when you go? Rabbit used to be a good friend of mine, and it'd be nice to visit. He did a tattoo for me as well."

Amora smiled and nodded, handing her phone to Leslie. "Put in your number, I'll text you when I know."

Leslie did as Amora asked, and got out of the car, bidding her goodnight. Perhaps if she couldn't convince Niall and Irial that the inc exchanges were wrong, maybe she could straight from the source – Rabbit.

If it were to stop now... Maybe Amora would be saved.

~x~

Amora too, lived in an apartment, just herself and her cat, Minxy. Minxy was a 'munchkin cat', a breed who's legs were shorter than the average cat. Minxy was a tubby cat, her belly barely off the ground, and had a rich black coat with white stripes on her body here and there, and green eyes. For Amora, she was her only company, and that was fine by her.

"Hi baby!" Amora cooed as she edged in the door, Minxy meowing and twisting through Amora's legs. It was midnight, but that was Amora's regular schedule. She was almost nocturnal, with the working at the bar and what not. She kicked off her shoes once again, a little bit of a dance in her step as she wandered to the fridge, taking out a can of wet cat food and cold spaghetti. She put the spaghetti in her microwave, and turned her radio on again, bopping around her kitchen/dining room as she did so. When her food was put on the floor, Minxy gobbled it right up, her meowing finally stopping.

Amora left Minxy to her dinner as her own heated up, going to her bedroom and pulling out a ratty tee shirt and black shorts for pajamas. She didn't care if it was -10 degrees out, she still wore shorts to bed. She stopped in front of her mirror before changing, and pulled up her shirt to stare at her tattoo. She smiled slightly, running her fingers down the line of the scar. She pulled up Niall's eyes in her mind, and could almost paste them in color and detail onto where they would go on the tattoo. She couldn't help but smile, so happy with the tattoo. Her head began to loll back, as a wave of dizziness came out of nowhere. She sat down on the edge of her bed, holding her head in her hand and blinking rapidly at her reflection. She met her reflection's eyes, and thought that she could see a hazy black outline around her body, almost like an aura, but moving and slithering. Amora widened her eyes and blinked a few times, before it was gone again.

_I'm over tired, or over hungry._ She amended, as she rose from the bed, her legs sturdy. Her head began to feel heavy though, as suddenly a taste of worry rolled through her mouth, and her stomach's edge of hunger seemed to fade just a bit. She gave a gasp, putting her hand to her stomach, and looking out the window. She swore she could see a faint line of a person, standing across the street from the apartment, staring up at her window, staring at _her_.

Amora stumbled back, her legs hitting the edge of the bed and forcing her to sit down. When she stood again though, craning her head, the figure was gone. The dinging of both her microwave and her cell phone made her turn away, but not before drawing the curtains closed. She looked at her phone first, a small smile lighting up her face, the figure across the street forgotten.

"Come in tomorrow b4 you go to work." It was from Rabbit. A slow smile tilted her lips as she did a small dance, before forwarding the text to Leslie.

~x~

It had been Niall, outside her apartment. Even now, he was still there, watching the light and her shadow, he had just dropped his glamour. He had wanted her to see him; he had wanted to try to see if he could feel her emotions. And oh, he had – fear had filled his mouth, just as happiness was now the taste that lingered. He didn't tilt it out to his court, no. He simply tasted it, didn't sip it and feed himself, a bit off the edge of his hunger.

Try as he did, Niall couldn't make himself regret this.

He smiled, a real one, as he turned from watching her window, satisfied when the lights went out. He'd be fine, she'd be fine, they'd all be fine. Maybe he wasn't a bad king after all.


End file.
